


Gallileo (Figaro?) to Enterprise. A Queen*Star Trek Crossover

by Toinette93



Series: Queen*Star Trek crossovers [1]
Category: Queen (Band), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Crossover, Five Year Mission, Friendship, Gen, Mission Fic, Mystery, Not Beta Read, Queen as officers on the Enterprise, Some angst, not a native speaker, queen in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93
Summary: "Gallileo to Enterprise, Gallileo to Enterprise" Freddie's voice sounded in the shuttle, but there was no response.---The Queen members are new officers on the Enterprise. They are sent on a landing party with Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Why does this planet garble communication and destroy probes? And what's with all the trees?
Series: Queen*Star Trek crossovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692823
Comments: 49
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

“So, gentlemen. You know why I have asked you here. We’ve picked up quite a few new officers and ensigns from Starbase 12, a month ago and they must be well eased into their duties by now. I’ve read the department head reports on these new recruits and they seem to be quite a fine group of men and women. I understand you wanted to give a commendation to one of them already, Mr. Sulu?”

“Yes, sir, Ensign Katé is a fine marksman. Her phaser fire at the right second when no one was there to give order may well have saved us all last week during our last run-in with this Klingon ship, sir. I think she’ll make a good commanding officer someday.”

“Alright, Sulu, she’ll get it. I’m happy to see we seem to have gotten new officers who are in keeping with the best crew in the fleet.”

Around the table, Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott seemed to glow at the comment. Sulu and the Chief of Security Lt-Commander Giotto, less expansive simply nodded, while Lieutenant Uhura from Communications smiled at the Captain. The Chief Medical Officer started to mutter something under his breath about manipulative starship captains and as Spock’s eyebrow started raising to his hairline, said Captain decided to curtail the looming argument by keeping on talking.

“Now, I believe our next mission would be a good opportunity to test the potential of these young recruits in a landing party setting. Most of them have been assigned to Beta or Gamma shift and I have mostly not gotten to know them yet. That would be the occasion. This afternoon at 14000 Mr. Spock, Dr McCoy and myself will go down to the planet…”

“Theta Beta 2, sir” completed the first officer

“Yes, thank you Mr. Spock. So, additionally to the three of us, as it is a shuttlecraft mission, we’ll need four more people to complete the different tasks of the mission. Lady and gentlemen I will be needing your suggestions. Mr. Spock, the mission briefing, please.”

“Yes, sir. The purpose of this mission is to determine the potential value of planet Theta Beta 2 as a source of medicinal plants. Automated probe sent to the planet have revealed a very large variety in plant life, some of the initial scans seemed to indicate some species could have large medicinal potential. The probe, however, rapidly stopped emitting. It seems something about this planet’s atmosphere or immediate vicinity gravely impairs communication devices, although the data analysis seems to indicate that careful constant adjustments could allow for sustained communications. The use of transporter, however, seems to be impossible without substantial work.”

At the mention of the impossibility to used transporters, a smile grew on Doctor McCoy’s face

“A lot of plant life and no transporters, Jim? I like this planet already.”

Spock did not let himself be led astray by the interruption and kept on going.

“The secondary aim of this mission would be to ascertain the cause of these disturbances and to determine whether it is possible to correct it. Initial scans from the ship seem to point to dust orbiting around the planet with an unusual composition as a possible source for these occurrences, we do not know more at present because of the difficulty encountered in maintaining communications with launch probes. As we do not know what the phenomenon will do to our navigation systems I suggest we need a co-pilot so that the shuttlecraft may more easily piloted manually in case of instrument failure. We would also need a communication officers, to keep contact with the ship as much as possible, as well as an engineer to help determine the possibilities of surpassing the problems posed by this planet’s unusual atmosphere. On the scientific side, beside DrMcCoy and myself, I suggest we bring someone from astrophysics to study the dust phenomenon, as this is not my primary field.”

“Thank you Mr. Spock. That was a very thorough report, as always. You got anybody in mind amongst those new recruits for the scientific position Mr. Spock?”

“Indeed, Captain. I would recommend Lieutenant May. He is currently completing his doctorate on interstellar dust during his posting on his ship. I think his expertise would be much adapted to this mission.”

“Now, I know this name” muttered Doctor McCoy.

“He has visited your sickbay a few times, Doctor. I believed you released him from his last visit yesterday. You certified him fit for duty, doctor, I checked.”

The doctor let out a puff of annoyance.

“Will he be up for a landing party, Bones?”

“Yes, Jim, I kept him long enough, he’ll be fine.”

He remembered the young lieutenant now, and he had certified him fit for duty, and his medical instruments had agreed with him, he could not help having some slight unease about sending him on a landing party. He reasoned however that speaking against it now would be risking the man’s career on nothing but a baseless worry, and even he could see how illogical it was. Well, the bloody hobgoblin was getting to him. He’d start spurting equations next.

“So, this is covered. Sulu, is there anyone you’d recommend from the helm for this mission. This Ensign Katé, perhaps?”

“That will be difficult, Sir, Ensign Katé pulled a lot of extra shifts in the past few days to cover for Ensign Heinrich who had broken his wrist, and she just came off shift at 0800, I think she may need the rest, Sir. Besides, she is a good pilot, but she is still primarily a phaser-woman and she has very little experience with shuttlecraft.”

“All right, all right.” Kirk thought he should have known that. He usually did, but the dangerous mission had kept coming and he had not had time to get to know these new crew members as well as he should. This was really a good occasion, although on this particular mission, he had to admit Sulu with his love of plants would have been a good fit himself. “Who do you recommend then?”

“I’d respectfully recommend Ensign Taylor, Sir. He is quite young and can appear somewhat, well reckless, but he is a good pilot, and has shown that he reacts well to emergency in the past few weeks. He also has some basic background in botany, enough to follow Spock’s instructions and retrieve samples.”

Kirk had some doubts about allowing someone whose own superior officer deemed somewhat reckless and that showed on his face, but he did trust Sulu’s judgement.

“He’s also a pretty good bridge medic, Jim.” McCoy looked pointedly at Spock and Kirk while saying that and the message underneath – always better to have two medical-trained pair of hands than one with you two around – was pretty clear.

“Ok, so, Lieutenant May on Science, Ensign Taylor on helm, Uhura, who do you recommend on communications?”

“Well, sir” she seemed to think for a second. “I’d recommend Lietenant Bulsara, Sir. He’s quick thinking and can be very focused when needed. He also has a good ability to control his voice event without instrumentation and that’s always a good think to have when the transmission is garbled.”

“He’s also a good fighter, Sir. I was worried you were not bringing any security, but the man is efficient with a phaser as well as in hand in hand combat.”

That was high praise from the usually quiet Giotto, and Kirk thought this was starting to look like a good team. He turned to Scotty, who was the last one not to have spoken.

“Who do you recommend, Scotty?”

“Well, Sir, there’s a wee lad, Ensigh Deacon, that has been doing some pretty impressive tinkerin’ across the ship. He’s nineteen and as quiet as a mouse, but I believe he may be as full of ingenuity as our own Chekov Sir. I think he has the type of mind you need for the mission there.”

“All right, it seems we have our team. Spock, I see you’ve been reviewing their personnel file, any objection to this team?”

“No, Sir”

“Funny” commented McCoy who had been reading over Spock’s shoulder “The four of them seem to have a common passion for music.”

Kirk nodded at that then added.

“All right. Spock, McCoy, get ready, we’ll meet at the transporter bay at 14000, Uhura, get the four officers we have just selected to be there as well. Meeting dismissed.”

The senior officers left the room and the voice of Lieutenant Uhura could be heard over the intercom “Lieutenant May, Lieutenant Bulsara, Ensign Taylor and Ensign Deacon, please report to the shuttlecraft bay at 14000 for landing party duty. I repeat...”


	2. Chapter 2

Uhura’s call suddenly jostled Ensign Taylor from a deep slumber and some very pleasant dreams. A blonde head emerged from under the pillow, blinking furiously at his alarm clock. His shift only began in more than an hour, why was there noise now? It took him a few seconds to understand that this was not, in fact, the alarm clock, nor any form of alarm at all, but a call from the chief communications officer. It took a few more seconds to get his composure, understand the message, and punch the button next to his bed “Taylor here. Acknowledged”.

Now landing party, on a shuttlecraft, that probably meant he was going to get to pilot it. That sounded exciting and really worth the early wake-up call. Don’t get him wrong, he loved piloting the Enterprise whenever he got a chance to get his hands on the helm, but piloting in an unknown planet atmosphere felt like a stimulating challenge, and if there was one thing he did not deal with well, it was boredom. That would not be part of the deal there. Besides, he had to admit to himself Uhura’s voice was by far not the worst sound to wake up to. A smile quirked at his lips at the thought. He started to get ready, and retrieved the mission briefing summary from the ship’s computer, loading in on his PADD. That would be some challenging piloting for sure.

Once ready, Roger Taylor got to the shuttlecraft bay. He was met by a very tall officer in the blue uniform of the science crew, nervously checking data on a PADD. When the man moved his head in his direction he recognized Lieutenant May and his long curly hair, somewhat incongruous in uniform. He gave a nod and a smile in his direction, letting him finish preparing his data, the man was obviously busy. They had had a few shifts together when the lieutenant had manned the science station in the middle of the night. They had not talked much being on duty, but May had seemed nice if a bit on the reserved side. Roger had not seen him in a while though, and how skinny he was surprised him again. He did not have much time to think about it, as the rest of the mission complement arrived. First, a really young looking man with the same ensign rank as himself but in engineering red, who reported nervously to the first officer who was arriving behind him as “Ensign Deacon, reporting for duty, sir”, which got him a nod. The engineer sounded even younger than he looked and Roger wondered again why star fleet seemed to recruit children for deep space missions. The ship surgeon, the first officer and the captain arrived next, already engaged in conversation, and followed by a running Lieutenant that Roger immediately recognized as Freddie Bulsara, the communication officer who most often manned Uhura’s station on gamma shift. The slightly flustered look on the man face told him that he probably was not the only one that Urhura’s call had woken up. He was happy to have him on the team. Freddie was good as his job, and very funny, although he did not know how much of it would be visible with the three highest ranking officers on the ship present.

Now that everyone was there, and after a summary of the mission by the Captain, highlighting his confidence in the competence of his crew, they climbed in the shuttlecraft. At a nod from the captain, Roger sat in the pilot seat and started pre-flight check procedures. It was a good thing he was not prone to doubting himself, given the fact the captain was seating just next to him. Behind the captain on his right, he saw Freddie sitting down, manning the com’ station, checking everything was in order. Spock and Lieutenant May were at the back, checking the scientific instruments, and last to enter, were the young kid from engineering that got stuck talking to Dr McCoy and looked quite intimidated. The two sat down next to each other on the left hand side of the shuttle, and the doctor apparently insisted to seat on the window side.

“Ready for liftoff, Ensign?” asked the Captain.

“Yes, sir”.

The shuttle bay doors opened, and the young ensign piloted the shuttlecraft out with practiced ease. He had the flight plan well in hand, and he followed the captain’s instructions as he gave small course changes to compensate for the disturbances of this area of space that the first officer was observing and calculating. The kid from engineering had his eyes set on his PADD relaying information concerning engine outputs and so far was giving them the all-clear.

So far, so good. There was some turbulences, but nothing he couldn’t compensate for, and from Lieutenant May’s excitedly furrowed face on the science station, the information he was able to retrieve from the dust cloud that was all around them was plentiful indeed. The first signs of trouble came from communications, as their elliptic approach started to come closer to the planet. It was not fully unexpected, it had happened to all the probes before, but the stronger communication array should have prevented it from happening so soon. Roger heard Freddie’s slightly tense voice from his station:

“The communication with the ship is loosing in quality.”

“Can you compensate?”

“Yes, but probably not for long, sir.”

“Alright, transmit our position and heading, and keep trying to compensate and sending as much information as you can”

“I’ll do that.”

Freddie’s hands were flying over the console with the easy grace that seemed to somehow be a prerequisite to working in Uhura’s department. They were starting the maneuvers to get into orbit around the planet.

“Engine’s output has a 2% decrease.” noted the engineer’s young voice. Before anyone had had a chance to react to that a violent lurch rocked the ship.

“By all the blazes of hell” commented Doctor McCoy. “What on earth was that?”

“We are in fact, not on Earth, doctor. And it appears to have been a collision by some form of energy. I cannot at the moment, hypothesize further.”

Another collision hit the ship.

“Shields down”, commented Mr Spock, calm as always.

Kirk was on helm almost immediately.

“Get us out of there, Mr Taylor!”

Said Mr Taylor was trying but the helm was not responding correctly. The engines seemed to be at least partly down and gravity was doing its work, drawing them towards the planet. He groaned. The captain rapidly understood the problem.

“Engineering, report.”

The young Ensign may have appeared surprised to be addressed that way but he had his numbers ready.

“Engines down, sir. I may be able to get power back to the starboard nacelle but the other one is toast.”

“Do that.”

“Shields are back up, Captain” commented MrSpock. They got hit again but this time, they held. “Lieutenant May and myself managed to recalibrate them appropriately but they won’t hold for more than 2.35 minutes at that rate of exposure.”

“Starboard nacelle back online.”

“Well, done, Deacon, now Mr. Taylor, get us out of here.”

“We appear to have lost a lot of fuel, captain” commented the first officer, bent on his viewer. We do not have enough power to escape the planet’s gravitational field and go back to the ship.”

Taylor’s slightly slower human brain was coming to the same conclusions.

Kirk looked at the numbers. Enough to get orbit but that was pointless, the collisions would strain the shields before they could get rescued. There was only one possibility left.

“You’ll have to land us on the planet, Mr. Taylor.”

The pilot had sadly come to the same conclusion. Emergency landing with compromised shields, faulty instrumentation and only one functioning power nacelle was not going to be a bloody walk in the park.

“On it, captain.”

The captain looked at his crew: “May, you keep those shields working. Spock, keep an eye on those sensors and give the course change to Taylor as we go along. Deacon, you keep the engines going, coax them, curse them, sing to them if you have to, but keep them going.”

“I can’t sing, sir,” deadpanned the kid “but I’ll keep them working.” Kirk smiled at the ability of the young man to make a joke in these circumstances. Seemed like Scotty had been right in his estimation of character. “Lieutenant Bulsara, keep on trying to raise the Enterprise”. The man nodded, focused on his task. “Bones, keep an eye on temperature and life-support systems. With the power drain, I hope they’ll hold.”, “Will do, Jim. I’m also getting stuff ready for evac.”

His orders given, the captain sat back and went on helping at the helm. They were going down, and they were going down fast. Too fast. The captain did not make any comment. There was no point. Apart from the rate and ratios indications, and soft voice of Lieutenant Bulsara hailing the Enterprise without getting an answer, the ship was quiet. The fact that they did not burn up in the atmosphere was testament to the ability of every member of the small crew. But looking at the numbers on the shuttlecraft computer, the Captain knew one thing. They were going to crash, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Brace for impact” he heard the helmsman say. He noticed at the corner of his eyes Doctor McCoy grumpily protecting the young Engineer’s body with his own as the young man was not reacting quickly enough. He also saw Lieutenant May calmly retrieving data chips from the computer before protecting himself. The captain took the brace position, and then they crashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Ao3!  
> Now, things are starting to happen! As this is a crossover, please tell me if there's anything that's not clear if you're not familiar with one of the two fandoms. I believe it works without, although some vague knowledge of TOS probably helps.  
> I would also like to point out that the graphic depiction of violence mostly applies to one chapter further down the line. There will be appropriate warnings on the chapter, and the possibility to skip it.  
> I hope you are enjoying this. I will try and update daily.  
> Comments are extremely welcome, thanks again for those who left some on the previous chapter.  
> Have a good day, people.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock opened his eyes. He felt wetness on his hair. But… No it was not blood. Water. The automatic fire-prevention system had gone off. After the crash. They had crashed. He checked his body for injury. A few bruised and small burns, but nothing seemed to be broken. The disorientation from the crash was dissipating. He was functioning adequately. He had to check on the others. First priority, Doctor McCoy, if anyone was injured they would need his expertise. Lieutenant May, next to him, did not look badly hurt from a quick glance, he was breathing, and stirring. He could wait for the attention of the good doctor. Making his way towards the ship’s surgeon in the smoke-filled shuttlecraft, Spock planned his next course of action. He would have to check on the Captain of course. A look towards the front of the shuttle caused a wave of panic that the Vulcan’s controls quickly but not effortlessly forced to keep down. The shuttlecraft was broken in two. He kept on making his way towards the doctor, noticing on his right side the communications officer getting up, holding his arm in obvious pain. Alive, then, at least.

The ship’s chief medical officer was moving his head around, and there was blood coming from it, although not all that much. He seemed to be somewhat out of it, and was moving away from the young engineer whom he had protected during the crash. Spock put his hand on the doctor’s shoulder.

“Doctor McCoy. Are you seriously injured?”

“I’m ahright Spock” drawled the doctor, getting out his medical scanner, whirling the apparatus at the Vulcan. “You appear to be too, some cuts and bruises but nothing serious.” He then whirled the tricorder at the young ensign “You ok, kid?”, he asked, even as his equipment was telling him the man was not injured. “Yes, sir” was the short answer. “Ensign Deacon. Please check the engine’s status and give me a report.” ordered the first officer The young man nodded and was on his way.

The ship’s surgeon got up. He might have swayed a bit, but barely had time to, as the first officer’s hand was on his elbow, helping him up. The contact did not last long.

“I told you I was fine, you pointed-eared!”

“You are bleeding, doctor.”

“Well, I am aware of that, Spock, but it’s just a scratch, I’ll have Taylor use the dermal-regenerator on it when we are all set.”

“I would suggest, then doctor” the first officer said motioning towards the break in the shuttle “that you go check on Lieutenants Bulsara and May while I try and retrieve the Captain and Ensign Taylor.”

McCoy nodded to that and made his way to the right side of the shuttle. He had seen the break in the small vessel and was worried for his captain and his medic, but he had a job to do and he was going to do it. He found Lieutenant May first, who was slowly getting up. The doctor helped him back on his chair, and whirled at him. “Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant?”, the scanner agreed with the man’s acquiescence, so the doctor sent him to check on atmospheric reading – the air was obviously breathable since the hull was breached, but it could have dangerous components on the long run – as well as supplies. He then maid his way to Lieutenant Bulsara, who, despite holding his right arm in pain, was also trying to ascertain if there was a way to get the com system working. McCoy raised a hand to his face. It seemed to have stop bleeding, and he got the blood away from his eyes. The communication officer seemed to be in pain, and he would need to see well to treat the injuries. He kneeled down to the man, asked to see the arm – broken, but not too badly – and started to work. He hoped Spock would find the Captain soon, and alive too.

He did not have to wait for long. He had barely finished repairing what he could of the communication officer’s arm, when he saw Spock come back, supporting the Captain who was all but carrying Ensign Taylor. He was at their side in an instant, getting them both on the ground. He checked the Captain quickly, who seemed to be fine and was protesting as much “I’m ok, Bones, cuts and bruising, nothing more”. The check took maybe twenty seconds, he’d have to look again, but there did not appear to be any immediate danger. He then put his medical scanner to work on the shuttlecraft pilot, who did not seem to be quite conscious yet.

Jim Kirk was looking at the Doctor, face worried. He did not like to lose crew members and had seen the concern in the physician’s eye. He saw him work quickly, muttering about “bloody faulty electrical insulation on this death-trap of a machine”, then get out a hypo and energetically punch it in the man’s neck while getting the dermal regenerator to work on some burns on the man’s hand. He kept on working, looking at his tricorder with a frowned, then looked up and smiled.

“He’ll be fine, Jim”

Kirk nodded, patted the surgeon’s shoulder “Thanks, Bones” and went to see how the rest of his crew was doing, nodding for his first officer to follow him.


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out the other member of the crew had been reviewing the situation at hand. The shuttlecraft was irreparable, and they had started using it as a shelter of sorts, as it appeared they might have to stay there a while. The supplies were plentiful, the danger to be stuck on the planet had been fairly predictable and they had enough to eat for about a week. There did not seem to be any sentient life forms anywhere around.

McCoy had kept an eye on everyone’s injuries, forcing all of them not to overexert themselves, while seemingly not heeding the counsel himself. Lieutenant Bulsara, with input for the Captain, had kept on trying to raise the ship but the interference was too strong. The sounds of “Gallileo to Enterprise” had needlessly sounded in their shelter all afternoon. When the sun started going down that evening, they were no nearer to escaping the planet, but they were also in no immediate danger, and the spirits would have been quite high, if they had not all been that exhausted. They agreed that they would try to map more precisely the disturbance the next day and Kirk was quite confident that they would find a way to contact the ship and get a transporter signal working. They established rounds for the night. The members of the senior crew had all been stuck before on far less pleasant planets, and they had to admit that the younger officers held on quite well for their lack of experience of such situations.

McCoy opened his eyes, and looked at his tricorder, which amongst many other functions, did keep time. He still had a while before he had to get up and take his round. He was surprised. As a ship surgeon he had learnt a long time ago to sleep anywhere, for precisely the time available without needing any kind of alarm. It was a valuable survival skill. He should go back to sleep, he thought but he felt restless, with a sense of foreboding he could not quite escape. And, darn, if serving under Captain Kirk for the past few years had taught him something it was that anything that could go wrong probably would, it was only a question of time, and a gut feeling was any good indication as any as to when that would happen. So he got up quietly, taking his surroundings. It was quiet and bitterly cold, and he pressed his survival blanket around his shoulders. He got his medical tricorder out as well, thinking he may as well check on his patients without disturbing their sleep. To his right Kirk was snoring softly. That got a smile out of the doctor. Now, the man knew what he was doing, sleeping like a baby. He seemed to have moved in his sleep though, and the doctor, not wanting to deal with a cranky and cold captain in the morning, swiftly readjusted the blanket on his commanding officer’s shoulder. Spock was not in his sleeping bag, which was perfectly normal as it was his guard round, and the doctor could just make out his form guarding the entrance to the torn shuttlecraft. He resolved to first check on the younger officers before going to annoy him to pass the time.

The four young men seemed to be asleep. The doctor checked the wounds of Lieutenant Bulsara and Ensign Taylor. They were healing fast, the lieutenant should be able to use his arm again in a few days, and the blonde ensign’s wounds would barely be felt in the morning. He let a pleased chuckle escape his mouth. There was a lot that could be said about the benefits of modern medicine. Lieutenant May shifted in his sleep at the noise, and the surgeon decided he should be careful not to wake them up, and so he made his way to the science officer of the Enterprise.

The Vulcan was sitting ramrod straight as always at the entrance of the shuttle, but when the doctor approached he noticed that he had a hand going up his face, and a gesture that would have been to be expected from a human, tired on guard duty, but was unusual enough for the science officer that it raised a few alarms in the doctor’s already tense mind. He decided to try subtlety for once, although he doubted that his colleague’s predictable reaction to his concern was likely to result in anything but his own annoyance. But let it not be said that he did not try. He sat down next to him and greeted him with an: “Evening, Spock”.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow

“Doctor. I do not believe you are set to relieve me from guard duty at this point. There is still 2.36 hours before it is time for such an exchange. Since humans need more sleep than Vulcans to function adequately, I suggest you return to sleep.”

“Nah, something woke me up, I couldn’t go back to sleep, thought I might as well check up on you. This crash was quite a shock and you have been working non stop since then. Must have done a number even on you.”

McCoy run his tricorder on the Vulcan, and frowned. Now that was odd. Those reading shouldn’t…

Spock had barely had time to utter his “This is quite unnecessary, doctor.” when they were interrupted by a scream.

They did not have to look at each other to run towards the screaming, that was coming from their sleeping space. When they got there the screaming had stopped. Lieutenant May was sitting up with a terrified look on his face, and Taylor was already looking him over, even if he did not exactly look awake himself. On the other side the communications officer was patting him on the shoulder with his good arm, and Ensign Deacon was looking concerned a few feet further away. McCoy and Spock arrived on the scene at the exact same time as a disheveled Kirk. Now the fact that it looked like a nightmare of sorts did not mean McCoy was not going to check the man over. They were on an alien planet with a lot of unknowns and he sure as hell was not going to take any chances. He sat down next to the lieutenant and started whirling his medical scanner around.


	5. Chapter 5

_A few hours earlier_

That evening, as he got into his sleeping bag in the broken down shuttlecraft, John Deacon was exhausted, battered and bruised but he was mostly surprised as how unafraid he was. Stranded on an unexplored planet, he figured he should have been terrified. He wondered if there was something wrong with him. Unlike many other cadets, he had joined the Academy always thinking he would work on a star base, doing maintenance on ships or working on engineering testing teams, and he had applied to the Enterprise because his teacher had told them he should, never thinking he would be accepted. Turned out he was. And he did want to explore the universe, at least to a certain extent, and one does not refuse a posting to the Enterprise, the flagship of the fleet, working under Montgomery Scott, the miracle worker himself. Besides, it would just be a few years, and he’d be his usual quiet mouse and tinker away. It had worked well, at first. He had not met that many people and he felt a bit lonely, if he was honest with himself, but the engineering was top-notch. And then he had been selected for landing-party duty, and he had been terribly anxious in the hours preceding lift-off.

Then, his monitoring duties had occupied all his brain and the fear had left. Despite the crash it had not come back for long periods of time since then. During the crash, his training had taken over, and he had spurted out numbers and calculated data like his life depended on it. Which to be fair, it did. And once it was clear no one was seriously injured, they had gone to work. Now, this planet’s atmosphere had some extremely odd readings going on. The magnetic field kept fluctuating and there was almost constant interference. He could not quite figure out what it was, and they had mostly spent the afternoon making and securing camp. He had devised an improvised alarm system from a broken communicator, Lieutenant Bulsara – who insisted he called him Freddie – guiding him on the design of these things, as Lieutenant May read the data he had somehow salvaged from the crash, mumbling at their imperfections. As if it was not already a wonder they had kept on gathering data in this situation at all. Now, if he could find a pattern in these interference, and if he could not, Mr Spock probably would, he was fairly certain he could compensate, at least for communications, if not for transport.

He was slowly drowsing off, and images of the day were going through his sleep-addled brain. At some point, Ensign – come on you idiot, call me Roger – Taylor, had gotten bored. He was stuck not moving from his injury, at the doctor’s insistence. So he had started cracking jokes and singing, when the senior officers had gone exploring around for a bit. He had a nice voice. Apparently, Bulsara had taken it as a challenge, and some of the “Gallileo to Enterprise” had been also sing-sung. The man had an impressive range. John and Lieutenant May, who had actually been working, had gotten a bit annoyed. And complained. Their complaining had gotten them some quiet and nicknames. May – Brian – was now Brimi, for some reason. And he was Deacy, or Deacs. Freddie had started arguing about his lack of nicknames – it was supposed to be a punitive measure, you wanker – when Spock had arrived, stopping them from squabbling like children. Which had been both a relief and a regret. The work had advanced at a remarkable pace amidst the squabbling. He smiled, and this last thread of thought was swallowed by unconsciousness.

–

He woke up to a scream, from a strange dream that was not quite formed and that he could not quite remember. It was Brian. He was screaming. Before he could really figure out what he should do, he was worriedly half-standing, Freddie had a hand on Brian’s shoulder, and a barely awake but still medically trained Taylor was taking a pulse. The screaming stopped. A few seconds later, the senior officers were there. McCoy pushed everyone away to get to the lieutenant. John found himself standing next to the captain, who put a hand on his arm and gave him a tense smile. Spock, who had run there as fast as everyone else was now standing a bit further away, looking outside, his hand coming to his temple again and again.

“Lieutenant, can you hear me?” asked the doctor, whirring away.

“Yes.” he answered, voice sounding small and scared.

“You’re ah’right kid.” the surgeon’s usually gruff tone had gone soft, and John could not help but be amused by the use of the word “kid” to designate the very tall, very serious man that was the lieutenant. “I’m just gonna check ya over to make sure, ok?”, then, turning to the others “Give the man, some space, and Jim, get some water will ya?”

“All right, Bones” Kirk said, and he went.

The other officers had moved back, and huddled around John. They figured it was probably just a dream, but the scream had sounded barely human, and had scared them all.

“Nightmare, was it?”, asked the captain, handing the water, voice soft.

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t remember it though”, answered the Lieutenant, sounding embarrassed, drinking his water and trying to get up.

“Nah, wait a minute there. I gotta check a few things still” growled the doctor, glaring at the captain who took a few steps back, standing next to his first officer.

Then as he was looking back at his tricorder, McCoy’s brow furrowed.

“Now, those readings are damn peculiar. Wait a minute...”

“No one is doing anything else, doctor.”

“Spock, get your scrawny ass down here, I gotta check something.”

The first officer raised an eyebrow at the doctor, colorful wording, but did, in fact get the entirety of his person at the doctor’s side, sitting down next to him.

McCoy saved the reading from the lieutenant, and then turned his device towards the first officer. “Yeah, thought so, same readings.” Then turning to the lieutenant. “There’s nothing wrong with you physically. But some of those readings from your brain are unusually high. A normal nightmare should not be doing that. It is going back to normal though. I’ll monitor those and check again in the morning.”

–

They had all gone back to bed, with a certain weariness to their step, and more worry etched on people’s faces that the situation probably required. Spock made his way back to the entrance of the shuttlecraft, to take back his guard duty, before getting relieved by McCoy. He decided he would let the doctor sleep an extra 25 minutes to compensate for the time worked in the middle of the night. He caught himself putting his hand to his temple again and had to repress a flash of annoyance at the gesture. There was something tugging at his consciousness, and…

“Spock.”

“Yes, doctor?”

“I still have to check on you again. I don’t like those reading on you and the lieutenant. An extremely vivd nightmare could explain this in him, but you were awake the whole time, and besides, Vulcans don’t dream I’m told, although I don’t know how true that is.”

McCoy was looking at his tricorder again, lips thinning in concentration and then turned back to the Vulcan, who once again, had a hand up his head.

“Spock? Are you in pain?” he asked.

“I am fine doctor. There does seem to be a pressure building up on my shields however.”

“On your…”

“I will need a period of meditation to ascertain the cause.” He interrupted. “As you are in fact, awake, may I suggest you take up guard duty as I do so?”

“All right, Spock, but I am keeping an eye on you as well”

“I did not expect anything else from you, doctor.”

Before McCoy had had time to figure out if it was meant as a compliment or as an insult – knowing the hobgoblin, he’d conclude later, probably both – his commanding officer had closed his eyes and entered the first stages of a meditative trance. McCoy still felt jumpy and uneasy, an odd feeling tugging at the back of his consciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear quirkysubject (and anyone else who dislikes/hates/despises dreams in fic), I am sorry about the dream sequence. Please go to the endnotes for a short summary, so you don’t miss plot points. Please also skip this chapter if graphic depictions of violence bother you as it is pretty graphic.

Brian s a t back down on his makeshift bed. He was still tired but mostly ashamed at the noise he had made.  He had waved his shipmates' concern,  it was just a bad dream. After a bit of fussing about, they had gone back to bed, and he could he ar the various noises they were making in their sleep. When he had told the captain he did not remember his nightmare, he had not quite been truthful. He did not remember the images precisely, but he remembered a sense of dread and the weird  feeling that the dream was trying to tell him something, and that by waking up, he had failed to listen. That made no sense, he chided himself,  but a part of his brain, the one that had read some of the mission reports from the Enterprise before being assigned to  her crew, said that maybe  it did. Space was the final frontier, and he knew he should be careful not to mistake the unknown for the impossible. 

With that and his duties as an officer in mind, he stopped fighting against the sleepiness that was enveloping him, and despite the fear, let himself drift-off, determined to face the nightmare head-on and try to remember if it came again. 

All around him, the forest burst into flames. The sky was red with it and all over, there was smoke. The green of the forest itself, in its part where it was not yet ablaze was dark with menace, and the old fear of woods passed down from generations of human ancestors tugged at his heart. He started to feel terror he had to flee that place. He would get burnt. The place around him exploded in a ball of fire, and he felt himself disappear. He should have been dead. He should. But he was not and part of him was maybe conscious of the fact he was dreaming but not enough yet to wake up. He was in a city. There the fire had abated, but it had done great damage. There were bodies laying all around the streets. Some of them had burnt down, to the point of being barely recognizable and he could not help but think it smelt like meat. He almost gagged, but he could not stop looking. He had never been that relieved to have been a vegetarian. Ash was slowly covering his hair and his face. He kept on moving through the city, to the places that had not burned down. But there too, there were corpses on the street, so many, he missed a step and walked on one, and felt the by now cold blood on his bare feet. It… was not red, but some shade of brown. And looking closer, the bodies were not human, barely humanoid really. At that moment he noticed a sound, and at the same occasion the eery silence that had thus far reigned at the scene. It was a small, hacking, breathing sound. One that said that whoever was breathing would not be for long. Brian ran. _It’s a dream, Brian_. He tried to tell himself but it did not stop his run. If anything, it made it quicker: if it was indeed a dream, there were no reason why mere physical limitations could stop him. He was there in half a thought. There was a creature, in what looked like a full space or biohazard suit, but made of metal, and visibly rusty, not airtight, Brian thought. The creature was working on a large tower, powering it up maybe, but he was wheezing hard, and there was blood coming out of the rusty armor. Brian kneeled next to the creature, that had finally stopped working. _Flee, get out, danger, go away._ The words filled the astrophysicist's thought. He jerked back, whimpering, as if hit by an electrical shock. He shook his head. He heard voices coming through to him. 

“Lieutenant.”

“Brian,  dear, can you hear me?”

“Come on mate, wake up!”

The captain,  Freddie and Roger, he figured, and opened his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Brian has another nightmare. He sees a forest burning, people getting burnt to a crisp, then a city covered in corpses, with someone dying of asphyxiation. Something tells him the dream is trying to tell him something. Then he wakes up. 
> 
> The inspiration for the dream sequence comes from this excerpt from a Napoleonic memoir. I would like to point out it is very graphic. More so than the fic. 
> 
> “All the while, the unfortunate village of Ebelsberg kept on burning. Since the battle the day before had been very bloody, the houses, the streets the riverbanks were cluttered up with dead and wounded men, that the fire reached, and when we were finally able to enter the village, the only things to be found there were piles of half-burnt corpses. […] Out of curiosity, I decided to go visit this scene of carnage. I had never seen anything as terrifying before, as those grilled corpses that did not look human anymore. Next to the entrance to the city, there was a pile of these things that was blocking a street: it was a mass of arms and legs, of shapeless, half-charred corpses.” Philippe-René Girault, Les campagnes d'un musicien d'Etat-Major pendant la République et l'Empire, Paris, Dillendorf, 1901, p.212. [my translation].  
> If anyone is interested in the original French version, tell me in the comment, I’ll provide it.   
> I hope you enjoyed it, comments are very much appreciated. Thanks again to all of you who read this.   
> Cheers.


	7. Chapter 7

McCoy was sleeping lightly. Ensign Deacon had joined him next to Spock sometime in the nigh t when his guard duty had come up, and had been told to wake  the surgeon up should any of the readings on the tricorder change past a certain point. The young man had written it all down, and the doctor had fallen asleep, thinking the risk low and trusting an engineer to read a chart.  He was right, too. After a few hours, the engineer did wake him up, telling him of a change in readings. It was quite a normal one, though. The Vulcan was emerging from his trance. The readings that had been unusually high before still were  however , and that worried the doctor a bit. He felt he never knew enough about that damn hybrid physiology of  Spock’s , though it was not from lack of research from his part. There simply was not much information available, and when there was, it was not easy to obtain, with the Vulcans being so private in about everything, to a frankly illogical degree, if you asked him,  not that anyone did. He still said it though. 

“Spock.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Well, are you alright? I’m still getting those weird readings, so I hope you found the reason for them.”

“I am functioning adequately, Doctor. And I have found the likely reason for these readings. It appears something or someone is attempting to contact me telepathically, and pushing at my shields". 

“That doesn’t make sense, Spock. How come you didn’t notice?”

“It is a very low signal, and as always when I am amongst humans, I am shielding extensively. It would appear that whoever of whatever is attempting contact either does not have the skill to project it in an understandable manner, or is too alien for me to recognize the signal as such.”

“Do you think it could be Lieutenant May, projecting out his dreams?”

“I deem it to be extremely unlikely, Doctor. The Lieutenant is not a telepath. Humans are a psi-null species and are quite unable to project his thoughts like that. It is however, possible that whatever is trying to contact me is also trying to contact him.”

T hey heard the voice of Ensign Taylor calling the doctor to their aid. Deacon was the first on his way followed by the two others. 

* * *

The call was short. Nothing had changed since the previous call in the night. There were still some unusual reading but they were no closer to medically understand what was going on. They needed to try and get out of there. Spock and McCoy had relayed their findings to Kirk, and he was organizing the next steps to be taken.

“All right” Kirk said. “We need to figure things out now. Deacon, Bulsara, you’re working to get the communications and hopefully transporter working. Spock, McCoy, May you work on that telepathic signal. I want to understand what is going on. Is Taylor cleared for duty, Bones?”

“Yes, captain.”

“All right, then, with me. We need to explore the surroundings, try to understand the place we’re in”.

* * *

“Freddie, are you getting the same pattern I am getting?”

Freddie looked on John’s PADD. The pattern of the interference disrupting both their communication and transporter systems was one of concentric circles. It was getting stronger as it grew closer to its source but seemed to be all bu inexistent at the phenomenon’s center.

“Yes, same one dear. I don’t believe we can push through from here...”

“But we might if we go there.” John completed, recording on their approximative map of the planet the location of the spot the disturbance seemed to be originating from.

“We need to go tell Commander Spock about this.”

“Let’s go, then.”

* * *

“So you believe it’s a transmission, Spock?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“And Lieutenant, you conclude that if it is a transmission, your nightmare could well be a message.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So we need to find the origin of the message, right?”

“This would seem to be the logical course of action, yes.”

“Well, I don’t know how we’re gonna do that, but we better do it quick. I really don’t like the look of these readings.”

* * *

“Captain, look!”

What has the Ensign found now, thought the captain.

The readings Taylor was showing were odd. Their were some very unusual waves and they seemed to be concentric. Now if they went that way…

* * *

Captain’s log, star-date 3522.6. The night is falling down on the planet again and we are no closer to getting communications with the Enterprise back. We do have the beginning of a plan. Ensigns Deacon and Bulsara have done an excellent job locating the source of the disturbance. Their information is in accordance with the insights gained from the science team on the origin of the nightmare that have been reported as well as Ensign Taylor’s observations on the concentric waves of unexplained energy around here. I have taken the decision of going to investigate tomorrow morning. Dr McCoy has expressed concerns regarding the health of the crew exposed to what appears to be telepathic onslaughts for a longer while. Mr Spock agreed with him, at the doctor’s surprise. We are leaving at dawn, I don’t want us to stay exposed any longer than necessary.

Captain’s log, supplemental. We have been awaken again by Lieutenant May’s screaming. Mr. Spock has reported a constant headache and McCoy says there seems to be physical pressure building up in both their brains now. He gave them a hypo and says there is no immediate danger but this is all the more reason to go at first light. There is a general feeling of unrest amongst this crew.


	8. Chapter 8

They were walking two by two on the narrow path, if it could be called that. They were really following the bank of a small river that was making its way through the thick forest. At the front, Ensign Deacon and Lieutenant Bulsara were tracking the signal, showing the way. They were talking amongst themselves, quite animatedly, determined to do their job well, while also enjoying it if at all possible. Well, Freddie was talking, mostly, and John was contributing to the conversation with readings and the occasional dry quip.

Next, Spock and Kirk were walking side by side, and McCoy was hovering between the different groups, checking on everyone. He was not liking was he was seeing on his medical tricorder.

Closing the marching order were Lieutenant May and Ensign Taylor. The blond ensign had a hand around his crewmate’s arm, keeping him from stumbling. They had been walking for a few hours. John had calculated they could get there before nightfall if they kept on going. Fred had commented they had been lucky to have crasehd so close from the center of the phenomenon. Spock had hypothesized luck had very little to do with it: the phenomenon had probably been the cause of their shuttle crashing. McCoy had given everyone a look and had told the captain it would be better if they got there as fast as possible.

* * *

Brian kept on walking. He was thankful for Roger’s hand on his arm, keeping him going in the right direction. It was getting worse. At least, now he knew it was a telepathic field, attacking him. He wondered why he was so much more affected that the other humans. Spock having to shield, he could understand, but he was pretty sure he had no telepathic ability whatsoever.

It now came by flashes. He would be walking around focusing on the road and then he would see people gasping for breath, things bursting in flames all around him. Exactly where he was walking. That was a child, screaming, thankfully he could not hear her. He still could tell it was not real but it was getting harder and harder. He stumbled again and felt Roger’s hand steadying him.

“Are you alright, mate?” asked the blond pilot and he nodded, trying to keep his focus. He pressed Roger’s hand, to assure himself of its physical presence.

The dreams had become hallucinations, and now the hallucinations started to get sound. He first heard the cry of animals getting burnt, weird-looking animals too, a platypus-like thing, even, and then he could smell it too. He started having some trouble keeping his breathing steady. He closed his eyes and tried to put his hands on his hears, but as the images were in fact coming from inside his mind, it did not change anything. He managed to keep on moving.

* * *

Kirk saw his CMO stumble and caught him before he fell.

“Bones !”

“If that’s what the lieutenant has been seeing, no wonder he was screaming” commented the physician, dryly.

They had stopped. Spock was leaning on a tree, trying to keep his balance. After a few seconds he managed. Kirk looked at his men. He had the beginning of a headache but nothing he had not dealt with before. Bulsara was unusually silent visibly concentrating on keeping invading thoughts at bay. Taylor was busy almost carrying Lieutenant May, who could barely walk. Deacon and himself seemed to be holding out best.

“Ensign” he called the red-shirted young man. “How much further.”

“We’re almost there captain.”

“Alright, we need to try and stop this thing. Deacon you’re with me.”

“I can come to, captain” added Lieutenant Bulsara.

Kirk took at look at the man. He seemed to be in control. “Alright, with me.”

“Captain” tried Spock.

“Stay there with the other, try to rejoin us as fast as you can without getting anyone hurt. And try to understand what these dreams and hallucinations are supposed to mean. You’re the only one with any telepathic capability.”

“Yes sir.”


	9. Chapter 9

The three men started running, Deacon showing the way forward. Soon they reached a large clearing.

“We’re here” said the Ensign.

The clearing was not devoid of vegetation altogether. No, here the trees were replaces by bushes, and everything was covered with a thick layer of moss. Kirk wondered for a second if it meant everywhere was north then pushed away the random thought. Although they had not had any rain on their way, it had apparently rained there and the moss was wet and glistening. It was vibrantly green, lush and healthy as all the vegetation on this planet had appeared thus far. They slowed down a bit, not wanting to slip on wet moss. They made their way to the center of the clearing. Looking around they started noticing traces of artificial structures, almost wholly buried in the undergrowth. They could see very little of those, but from what they could make out, it did not seem hard to believe that they had met quite a violent end, albeit a long time ago.

“Look” said Freddie

At the center of the clearing was what they had first thought was a lonely tree. And it was, in part. Bent, and thin, and old, looking if anything like an olive-tree, although the climate would hardly have supported the Earth species. It seemed to have the hardiness and longevity of its Earth counterpart however, as it had scorch mark and traces of having been hit by lightening on its trunk, and yet it was still standing, obviously alive and producing leaves. What the three starfleet officer had initially missed and were now purposefully looking at was what the tree was growing around.

Almost encased in the trunk, was a tall thin white column, that appeared to be, for lack of a better word, pulsating light.

John looked at his tricorder. Yes, that was it, the phenomenon that was stranding them here was originating from this column, and if he climbed on the tree, he should be able to get a comm signal to the ship, and maybe to build a transportation platform that would get them out of there. He turned to his captain and his shipmate to tell them that, surprised at their silence, but what he saw was not what he had expected to see. The cheerful and funny Lieutenant Bulsara was on his knees, looking at the column, a lone tear falling down his cheek. And the captain was slowly falling downwards, trembling, hands on his head, obviously in pain. John could feel tugging at his mind, the thought of orphan children, roaming a dead world, but it was but an impression. Nothing that had the obvious strength of what was ailing the others. He kneeled down next to the captain, that seemed to be in immediate need of assistance, wondering if he should run back to fetch Doctor McCoy. The captain beckoned him to come closer, and then, in a pained, barely whispered voice, and pointing at the tree, he said:

“Go. Try to get this signal off.”

“Yes, sir”

He got up. Next to him, Freddie got up too. He was crying freely now, sobs going through his lean frame, but he nodded to John and followed him. He saw in front of his eyes, superposed on the now peaceful landscape, but still distinct from it, families being torn apart, separated by flames and seeing their loved ones die. Some of the creatures were wearing breathing masks. But Freddie could work past it. He was not letting a nineteen-year-old ensign alone in this situation.

The captain was grateful that the lieutenant got up. He himself could not. The pain in his head was unbearable, and he could not stand anymore, let alone walk. He was fighting the visions, hard. He would not, could not, let them in. This was probably why he was in pain, he still manage to reflect, and maybe he could be more mobile if he let them in. But he could not. He just could not. Some images still peaked in, despite all his best efforts, images of children with round bellies, visible ribs and protruding eyes, eyes filled with hunger and despair, and the images melded with memories of himself in that same state, waiting for death on Tarsus IV and he could not let the images become real.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hum, hello people !  
> So this probably also qualifies for the graphic depiction of violence. Just thought a warning was fair. We are nearing the end here.   
> Without further ado, hope you enjoy this.

Spock was worried. The entirety of his mental abilities were focused on his shields, on keeping the images out, and his emotional controls were slipping. More precisely, he was worried about Jim, whose fate he did not know, and about McCoy and Lieutenant May whose pain was visible in their facial expression and the way they were moving. Truth be told, they were barely moving, each step harder than the previous one. 

“Spock.” he heard the voice, tone tense with urgency, only when he felt the contact of a hand on his arm. The doctor was usually careful not to touch him directly when not needed and so Spock concluded he must have tried to talk to him for a while without obtaining any answer.

“Doctor?”

“Spock, we can’t go on like that. The pressure levels are getting dangerous, and I think none of us can completely fend off the visions at this point.”

Spock noticed the doctor’s somewhat labored breathing, and that gave him pause.

“We need to go help the captain, doctor.”

“God damn it Spock, look at us. We won’t be of any use to the captain in this state. We have to stop. Come on, Spock, you know this is the logical thing to do.”

“Unfortunately, doctor, you appear to be right.”

The four officers sat down next to a big tree. First, they needed the break. But they also needed to find some way to be of help. To beat the visions hacking ar them, coming trough in waves, assaulting time and again their weakening psyches.

S pock now knew what it was that was attacking his shields. He was managing to keep this to simply knowing and not experiencing it, but he had to admit he was not sure he would have been able to keep on doing that had they gone any further. And given what it was, McCoy was right. It would have been an unreasonable risk to take to keep on going. He knew that behind his shields, the recorded death cry of a whole planet of telepathic minds was lurking, ready to wholly overwhelm him. 

McCoy was relieved they had stopped. He saw with what exhaustion Spock had sat down, and his scanner readings were telling him of dangerously high brain activity, and blood pressure. He forced the Vulcan to drink something, and went to see his other two patients. He himself could see on and off as each wave of the signal was passing them countless people dying, and more precisely asphyxiating, physicians trying to put breathing masks on them but apparently lacking resources to treat everyone, and having more and more difficulty breathing themselves. He could feel the despair and anguish of these people, or, more accurately, he was aware of it. But he was a physician, and this was a medical crisis. However horrifying massive death was, however awful his powerlessness to help, he could control himself, in the moment at least. He was a physician and he had current, living, breathing patients. Even if his empathy made his own breathing harder, he’d care for them first. He would not let himself be led astray from his tasks by the memory of people long dead, even if they appear to be dying in front of his eyes. It was the harsh reality of triage, one he was trained for and had dealt with before. He’d dose himself full of tri-ox and painkillers if it became necessary but he would not abandon his charge.

He arrived next to the two younger officers. Lieutenant May seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness his eyes going white in their sockets, long curly hair covered in sweat. The physician gave him a mild sedative to calm him down, but he dared not do anything more, having insufficient information as to the precise mechanics of what was really going on. He turned to Ensign Taylor who was holding his shipmate’s hand, and who was biting his lips hard to the point a small trickle of blood was going down his chin. There was a look of determination in his bright blue eyes, a visible unwillingness to be defeated that reminded the doctor of his captain.

The composure Roger was maintaining was fought hard for. The images he had in front of his eyes – well technically his mind’s eyes – were painful. He saw people in the wake of a disaster he did not know the nature of, getting at each other throats, killing each other for resources but also for seemingly no reason at all. He could see again and again a small vaguely humanoid child getting beaten  and beaten and beate n and he had to bite his lip not to scream. An idea was crossing his mind though. Now from what Brian had told him earlier it seemed they all had different visions. He could hear behind the vision the constant message screaming to flee, to get out of here, surprisingly not compelling in comparison with the strength of the vision s themselves. But there was a message there. If they  could share the information they all had, maybe they could understand. As the doctor was looking him over he said as much, fighting to get each wor d out. That got an immediate reaction from the first officer. 

Spock who was quite unvulcanly leaning on the tree for support perked up at the ensign’s suggestion. Of course, how had he not thought of that earlier.

“Ensign Taylor, your suggestion appear to be quite an auspicious course of action. I do expect we might have some difficulty recounting these visions in an understandable way to others. I believe however that I could help you by telepathically touching each of our minds, creating enough of a link for us to be able to know what the others are seeing without having to actually experience it.”

Spock saw the doctor tense at his words. Although he did not quite know why he had noticed McCoy seemed to be quite wary of entering any mind melds. What he was offering at the moment was quite different however, and he added, to dispel the surgeon’s misconception:

“This is not a mind meld, doctor. It is far shallower than a meld would be. It will only allow us to know of the others surface thoughts. Which I believe will be of the visions we are all currently experiencing.” 

Spock heard the whirring of the medical scanner pointed at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Well whatever kind of vulcan mind voodoo you are plannin’ on pulling off, it’s gonna be draining ya. And I don’t like the look of those readings any more than I did five minutes ago. Those things always take a hell of a toll on you and there are four of us, darnit.”

“I assure you, this is indeed far shallower than a meld. I am quite capable to bear the strain at present. Your delaying my action will only make it harder.”

“You green-blooded, pointy-eared… All right. Can Lieutenant May take it though?”

“I can guarantee you that no harm will come to any of you from these procedings, doctor. Now, if you could let me prepare.”

The physician grumbled something and the Vulcan started to work. It was fast. And almost immediately they knew. At least they had a fairly good idea of what had happened on the planet. Spock sagged down along the tree again as the contact was broken. The others seemed to be feeling better, the lieutenant coming back to full consciousness. The visions were still there, but now they were better shielded toward them because they knew. They slowly got up. McCoy helping the Vulcan and Taylor the lieutenant they started walking again. Since so close to the source, the communicators refused to work, they needed to go warn the captain. And feeling support in one another, now they could.


	11. Chapter 11

John and Freddie got to the tree. Freddie’s face was covered in tears but he was still walking with purpose and without fail. When they got there and looked they noticed that the basis of the column had been swallowed by the tree that had grow around it. From that close they also noticed writing on the columns as well as something that looked like a panel. They’d have to climb to get to it. The trunk was branching out, encircling the column on both sides. They decided they’d each take one side without having to talk. John went to the panel on the left, climbing with steeled determination and efficiency. Freddie climbed to the writings on the right, in what appeared as practiced grace, as if he had never lost the know-how from his long-past tree-climbing days.

John looked at the panel. And felt a twinge of panic. He had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Freddie, any instructions on your side”

Freddie had stopped weeping. On the tree, the waves had stopped but he could feel a message telling him to go away, to flee. He looked at his communicator, and was trying to make it work, without success. At John’s request, he looked  at the writings on the column. Now, there was something that looked like the imprint of a hand. He put his own hand on top of it and suddenly he had images of how the apparatus worked. He took John’s hand and put it on there, but the engineer told him he could hear nothing in his mind except something vaguely tugging at the back of it. Seemed like whatever had shielded him from the hallucinations also stopped him from getting the information they needed. So Freddie put his hand back on the thing, and started explaining what he saw. He had training in engineering but not enough to really understand what needed to be done. But John seemed to understand all right and got to work, his tool-kit precariously balanced on his hip. 

Kirk’s migraine was getting worse. The pain from keeping the visions at bay was unbearable and still, he bore it, for the visions would have been even worst. In the haze of pain he was finding himself, auras floating in front of his desperately shut eyes, he was not even thinking anymore, just keeping on fighting. He had initially been opening his eyes every few minutes and had seen his officers on the tree, but now the pain was too bad to try opening them again. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and someone was calling his name, then the one of his first officer, who answered no to a question  that was posed to him. Then he felt the hiss of a hypo in his neck and the pain started to decrease a bit, and he felt a coolness in him. His mind started to clear. He still had to fight the visions, but it seemed he was getting help from Spock, whose hand were on his head. 

“I have it” said John. And Freddie was saying the same thing at about the same time. “If I…” the rest was a mumble of technical terms and the engineer was hard at work. “It’s was supposed to be a beacon, telling people to go away” realized Freddie. “But something got into it, and it also became a distress signal, showing the pain the people were in, asking for help. And the telepathic frequency they used was blocking everything else, well, our forms of communication.”

“Jim” repeated McCoy, seeing some signs of awareness on his friend’s face. `

“Bones?”

“Yeah, Jim-boy, feeling better?”

“Yeah” said the captain hearing the concern and the hint of reproach in the surgeon’s voice.

“How did you manage to get here?”

“Spock used some mind trick to allow us to get the message from these things without having to experience them. I don’t like what it’s done to the elf but it seems to have worked. And I think we understood what is going on.”

“As I told you, doctor, I am very much able to...”

“Yeah, well, I’m getting you to sickbay the moment you touch the ship. All of you that is.” grumbled the surgeon.

Then they all felt a push on their minds, and then it was over. The visions had stopped. McCoy had not had time to inquire from the captain what the two others were doing climbing trees under the limited lights of dusk but now he did not need to ask. Apparently they had been cutting the signal at its source. Best damn crew in the fleet. Well, Deacon and Bulsara were running towards them, and McCoy was sure he would get more explaining than what he could understand.

When the two had arrived and explained what they had done, Kirk finally asked:

“So, it was a distress signal. But what is it that happened?”

“Ensign Taylor” said Spock “As you are the one who, as humans would say, figured it out, could you explain it.”

“Yes sir. So, something in the atmosphere changed. There was a toxic element and people started slowly asphyxiating. They did not have enough gas masks or whatever for everyone and it turned to chaos. The whole forrest burned. It seemed to help the breathing for a while but...”

“There was not enough food” added Kirk, shuddering.

“And they started fighting amongst themselves for it. They died.”

“May, you are positive the atmosphere is safe?” asked the captain, remembering the tall lieutenant had been the one to check.

“Yes, sir. The only unusual readings were slightly higher than normal oxygen readings as well as methane, but well within tolerance parameters.”

“Were they susceptible to methane?” asked McCoy.

“I think, doctor, they were a methane-breathing species. The oxygen killed them. That would account for the rust, and the flames and the fear of trees May has reported. ”

“Bulsara, Deacon, status on communication and transporters.”

“I should be able to contact the ship in a few minutes.”

“As for the transporters, it is as we first thought. It’s not coming from the planet but from the dust cloud above. I can compensate for it, but we’ll need to be at the shuttle for, I need the computer and I’ll need the data Brian took.”

“All right let’s go.”

“Captain” said the doctor, “I suggest we spend the night here. We are all exhausted”

“Alright.”

They contacted the Enterprise and settled down for the night. No nightmares came to visit them.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day, the walk to the shuttlecraft was far more pleasant that it had been the day before. Undisturbed by any visions, and under a bright sun that seemed to be determined to pierce through the thickness of the canopy, the seven men could actually enjoy the way. McCoy had noted the marks of tiredness and not-quite forgotten pain on everyone faces, and he would haul everyone to sickbay when they got there but for the moment, they all had seemed to have decided to pretend they were alright, and they were pretending convincingly enough that, for the most part they were. McCoy was happy to let them be for now, even if he did check them out at breaks that were fairly frequent. But more than anything, the mood was light. The forest was beautiful, and him and Spock found time to catalogue a wealth of plant life on their way, and the planet seemed to be holding up its promises as far as medicinal properties were concerned. They would recommend a longer survey by a science vessel for sure.

The group had almost naturally divided itself in two, with the senior officers taking the rear, talking animatedly, and the junior officer scouting on ahead, not giving any edge to their elder as far as the animated nature of their conversation went. The doctor looked at them and saw with some pleasure that there seemed to be some evident affection that had grown between them. It expressed with a lot of touching, and McCoy found himself thinking that apparently it was possible to be at least as touchy-feely as Jim Kirk. He noticed that Ensign Taylor seemed to have his hand on the other’s back in a gesture that was giving support and ascertaining if the recipient was all right. At the moment the attention seemed to be primarily addressed to Lieutenant May which, given that the man had been the one who bore the brunt of the telepathic waves’ effect actually made sense. The science Lieutenant did not seem to mind in the least, and although he was less demonstrative, he did touch the three others arms to attract attention or make a point with a caring softness. Ensign Deacon nudged and in one occasion tickled, showing affection by teasing, something the doctor could certainly approve of. Lieutenant Bulsara was the most expansive. He hugged, and ruffled hair and pushed, and his body language read closeness and protectiveness. The CMO remembered the comment Giotto had made about Bulsara being a remarkable fighter, and McCoy could tell that he was the kind of man to not let his own getting hurt. The four men laughed. McCoy smiled. It was good to see the birth of a new team, those young officers had certainly proved themselves worthy of the ship.

“Bones?”

“Yes?” Huh, so he had missed what the others were saying.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked the captain.

“Erm, nothing, was just looking at the four kids, they’re a fine bunch.”

Kirk smiled at that.

“So what were you talking about exactly before I got lost in thoughts?”

“The captain and myself were discussing the reasons why we appear to all react differently to the telepathic intrusion, doctor. I have a theory but some facts seem to contradict it, particularly in your case. I would like to discuss it with you.”

“So what’s that theory of yours, Mr Spock?”

“First, the facts. Lieutenant Bulsara, Ensign Taylor, and yourself, doctor, have had a moderate reaction to the telepathic onslaught, albeit with varying degree. I believe the reaction of the captain...”

“Well, those things caused one of our Jim-boy’s legendary migraines, and I should have seen it coming.”

The medical officer saw the short expression of relief on Kirk’s face as well as the minute nod of thanks. McCoy had noticed the mention of starvation in his captain’s description of the visions, and he was not going to risk bringing up memories of Tarsus IV right now. The captain kept on looking at flowers and trees, seemingly loosing interest in the conversation.

“Quite true.” The doctor gave a scowl at this frankly unkind comment on his ability but the Vulcan kept on going.

“On the other opposite sides of the spectrum, Ensign Deacon has shown almost no ill-effect while Lieutenant May and myself have felt the brunt of it so to speak.”

“Yes, we know, that, go on”

“I am merely ascertaining the facts, doctor”

“Well, consider them ascertained and get to the point.”

“As you wish, doctor. So I believe the reaction to these waves was, for humans who have no innate telepathic capability, empathic in nature. The amount to which one was affected seemed to be linked to the sensitivity of the individual relating to outside stimuli of this nature.”

“So Deacon?”

“I have not directly touched his mind, when I touched yours as you know. However, once the transmitter was deactivated, my shields were considerably weakened, and I could not help but feel the minds around me. It appears Ensign Deacon has unusually strong shielding for a human. It is a force that may prove very useful in dealings with other telepathic species.”

When Spock had mentioned weakened shields, the doctor had growled, and started to get his medical scanner out.

“Doctor, I assure you my shields have been restored by meditation last night. There is no need to concern yourself. Besides your instruments are not designed to measure the current efficiency of mind shielding.”

The doctor grumbled “No, but I can look for adverse physical effects. There does not appear to be any, but this is all the more reason to get you a complete check up in sick bay when we get there.”

“A check up in sickbay would not give you a lot more information, doctor. Lieutenant May’s shields were almost inexistent, and seemed to have been recently under strain, although I believe his sensibility is also partly innate. This would explain the particular vivid nature of the visions he experienced.”

McCoy thought that his misgivings to sending the young man on a landing party had actually had a valid source after all, and he felt a twinge of guilt on the subject. He’d have to get him a particularly thorough scan when they got home.

“So, Spock seems to me your theory works, so what’s the hangup?”

“You, doctor.”

“What da ya mean, me, you computer?”

“Well, doctor, you are an extremely empathetic human, with very brittle shields.” The doctor shuddered at that. “You are what’s more, very emotional. You have however been able to keep on functioning in this situation, which seems to betray the parameters of my hypothesis.”

“Nah, the visions were vivid alright. That’s just surgeon’s training, Spock. I can control myself in a medical emergency, ya know. And people were asphyxiating in there.”

“Indeed doctor, this seems..”

He was interrupted by a loud noise coming from the young officers up ahead.

Spock was about to run to see if anything was wrong, but the captain put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry Spock. They’re just expressing… contentment, in a particularly loud way.” Spock raised an eyebrow, and Kirk got ready to do a lot of explaining.

The conversation had gone back to nicknames, and Roger was wheezing in laughter at Freddie’s offended face. His proposals did not seem to be agreeable to the lieutenant.

“Well, if I can’t have a nickname, I’ll have a stage name.”

“A stage-name?” asked Brian

“Well, but for our band, darling!”

“Band?” asked Brian again puzzled.

“Are you going to keep on repeating what I say, dear? But of course a band. I sing, and play the piano, Roger drums, you play guitar, and Deacy plays base. Now we have a whole rock’n’roll setup.”

They all looked at each other and nodded.

“So, now that’s agreed, I need a stage name.” He stopped talking for a little one, while the others discussed their musical tastes. They were quite different but that would mean more variety. They quickly agreed to try to write their own songs and seemed to grow awfully serious about it all in an incredibly short time.

“What about Mercury?” asked Freddie, interrupting everyone.

“Yeah, what about it?” asked Roger, puzzled.

“For my stage, name dear! A beautiful planet, large, and majestic.”

“Sounds about right”, laughed the blonde drummer.

“It’s also the roman god of messages. Appropriate for a communications officer.” Remarked Brian.

“Wonderful.”

“And a poison” added John, with a half-crooked smile.

“Well, I can be pretty dangerous when I’m angry, dear.” he added, putting an arm conspiratorially around the man shoulder. “It’s decided, then. On stage I will now be Freddie Mercury!”

“Right.” said Roger. “Now we also need a name for the band.”

As they kept on working under the trees, the conversation kept on going. It was not over when they finally beamed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John will always be a bad-ass in my book. :-)  
> Hope you had fun.   
> One last short chapter to wrap things up and we are done.   
> LLAP and Cheers, people


	13. Epilogue

They built the signal strengthener for the transporter in record time. After a few hours of work, Ensign Deacon, with a hand from Lieutenant Bulsara, had it done. Ensign May kept on studying the readings from the stardust finding much interest in it and trying to see a way to seamlessly include it in his PhD without making it too many pages long. Well there was no helping it, it would be too long. The time was used by Spock and McCoy with the help of Ensign Taylor, to record a wealth of information on the planet. What had been a death trap to a whole civilization would be a paradise for humans. And archeologists would have a field day recording the ruins. It was a beautiful place. But for the officers from the Enterprise, the cries of help of the previous inhabitants, though probably hundreds of years old, was too fresh in there mind, and they could not entirely enjoy their stay without second thoughts.

The second Deacon declared the transporter safe for use, Kirk, who had been quite bored, opened his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise. Beam us up, Scotty.”

They were beamed in two groups and without incident despite the doctor’s misgivings.

Hauled to sickbay, the checkup showed no long-term effects, and even the usually cautious doctor could not find any reason not to release them from sickbay. They were off duty for two days, but not confined to quarters. Counseling was made available. The trio of senior officers went back to their irregular routine. So did the junior officers. But now they had a band. And, after long discussions, bantering and arguments that Spock and McCoy would not have disavowed, they had found a name. They were Queen.

_Two months later_

The rec room was full that evening.  Uhura and Spock had played their musical duo with their usual success. The communications chief once her  set was finished and the (long) round of applause had died down moved in front of the mike, Spock standing ramrod straight, hand s behind his back, at her side. 

“Thank you. Now I would like to present to you all a new musical group from our starship. I’m all the more happy to introduce them that their frontman is an officer from my department. With singer Freddie Mercury, guitarist Brian May, bass player John Deacon and drummer Roger Taylor. This is Queen.”

Uhura stepped aside, and walked off, with Spock behind him, who went to seat at a table where Kirk and McCoy already were, and both congratulated  him . “Well I don’t know how you can have no emotions and be such a fine musician Spock.” then, at the captain’s glare “But you are. Now let’s see how these kids do.”

Any further argument was quelled as the curtain that had closed off a part of the rec room opened, revealing a drum-kit and four men in absolutely outrageous costumes that they had to have  bought at the last star-base and then most probably modified themselves, as there was no way they had found that much glitter on a spaceship. 

And there it was. Counting to fo u r. Some clear a nd fast drums. The unique sound of one red electric guitar. A steady bass line. And then a masterfully controlled far ranging voice. 

“I was told a million time of all the trouble in my way….”

The song kept on going. The audience, surprised, at first by the sudden change in style from Uhura and Spock’s more subdued music was soon enthralled. When it came to the chorus, some in the crowd – notably Chekov – had started to dance, and to Mr Spock’s raised eyebrow and McCoy grumbling amusement, the captain was trying hard not to.

“Keep yourself alive, keep yourself alive, all you people keep yourself alive” Freddie sang and as he sang “all you people” he pointed in the crowd. Notably at any read-shirted individual in visual range. That was soon noticed by a crowd and caused a massive cheer.

The rest of the show went as well, and thanks to Mr Kyle, who had agreed to take care of lighting and sound, arguing that it was far easier than the transporter, there were no technical mishaps.

When they took their bow at the end of their shows, sweaty, happy and filled with adrenaline, the four musicians knew one things. There would be more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it folks, this is the end of this little fanfic.   
> Hope you had as much fun reading it as I liked writing it. Thanks to all of those who read and commented. Thanks for the warm welcome to the Star-Trek fandom.   
> :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello people !  
> So this is my first forray in Star Trek territory, and I am far too excited. I hope you enjoy the ride. This story is all but finished (I only have to write the epilogue) so don't worry about any unfinished buiseness here. I hope I manage to mesh the two universes well enough. For some reason, I love sending queen to space.  
> Please feel free to comment these things give me life.  
> Cheers and Live Long and Prosper, folks.  
> :-)


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